


On The Fence

by KindListener



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, Bodyguard, First Time, Gentle Sex, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Kissing, M/M, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22565488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindListener/pseuds/KindListener
Summary: Santana Tarrell is an idol, from Brazil, that recently got a gig in Japan, as a yakuza’s boyfriend. Jigen thinks it’ll be an easy job to look after him until he gets roped into hijinks, during Santana’s bath.
Relationships: Jigen Daisuke & Original Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	On The Fence

**Author's Note:**

> (Jigen is based, mainly, on his glow-up, from Lupin the FIRST because I’m so upset that I can’t watch it but at least I can do this. ALSO, I actually did a lead-up to my porn, on this one! I hope you’re proud of me!!)

The boss has, recently, been on a boy streak. Boys make money but they’re just as good in bed, he had reasoned with his bodyguards. Girls, when they go head over heels for a boy, seem to spend even more money on them than men on girls. So, that’s the logic behind it. Hey, it’s less hassle for Jigen, seeing as he’s straight and all so a woman would just be an unwelcome distraction. Yup. Straight. Definitely, straight. All women. Yep, nice. So, that’s how he finds himself in a large, classic Japanese bathroom, watching the silhouette of a Brazilian idol, from behind a paper divide. ‘If a single hair on Santana’s pretty, little head is harmed, I’ll kill you.’ That’s what the boss has said which is why, while Jigen is watching him, he may as well be in a padded cell. But, the kid, his limbs are slender and long and his skin is tanned and soft. He’d only gotten a flash of those violet eyes before the boy had dropped his towel and slid into the steaming water, behind the divide. He watches as soap-lathered hands palm down his chest and then dipping against his ribs. The scent of tobacco smoke cuts through the smell of soap and steam and sweat. Damn, his dress shirt is sticking to his chest. Jigen slides out of his suit jacket and places it, on the bench, next to him, along with his hat. ‘O Fantasma’ they called him, in Brazil, ‘The Phantom’, due to his haunting, violet eyes and his tendency to disappear, without a trace.

“Daisuke Jigen.” He rolls the name across his tongue and it sounds like a melody. His silhouette is slender and lithe. His shoulders are wide and he’s tall but not as tall as the gunslinger.  
“Yeah?” He calls back, stubbing out his last cigarette.  
“It’s just a fun name to say.” He explains with a slight, breathy chuckle. “Would you mind passing me my tea, please?” He asks, a tanned hand reaching around the paper screen. Jigen pours some more green tea into the stone cup and holds it out to the younger man. Long fingers curl around the cup and receive it. “Thank you. Oh! Ari...gatō! That’s how you say it, yes?” Jigen grunts in approval. There’s a loud smashing noise and a hiss of pain. Jigen tears the paper screen across and watches as drops of crimson drip into the water of the bath.  
“What happened?!” The older man demands and Santana shakes his head. Tea is spilt along the granite counter along with shards of broken ceramic, alongside the bath.  
“I went to put my tea down and, I think, my hands were still a little soapy and I dropped my cup and I... I’m sorry. I’ve made such a mess.” A gash from the tip of his thumb to the middle of his palm can be seen. The blood pours out of Santana as his cheeks go red and his indigo eyes well with tears. His demeanour softens. Jigen takes his delicate hand into his own, assessing the damage. There’s quite a bit, especially with blood covering everything. “I-I’m sorry. I’m such a klutz. I didn’t mean to—” He begins but Jigen shushes him, gently.  
“That’s gonna need stitches.” He states, trying to stay level-headed. With the fingers of a surgeon, he picks out any broken ceramic and places it with the rest. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you cleaned up.” He assures the younger man with a small, warm smile. He brings Santana’s hand up to look at under the bright light, from the steamed-over window. Red, glistening, crimson, gleaming... Something possesses the gunman and he holds the hand to his mouth, allowing himself to tongue at the wound, gently. To his surprise, the boy doesn’t snatch his hand away or look angry or confused or scared. Blood smears on Jigen’s lips as he tastes the tang of iron in his mouth, it makes his own blood boil. Suddenly, soft, pink lips are pressed against his own and a velvety tongue is dancing along his bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open, slowly. When he pulls back, he runs that pink, kitten-like tongue over the gash and then returns to Jigen’s open mouth. A small, breathless moan leaves the gunman as he feels his pulse quicken.

There’s a loud noise and a gaggle of voices.  
“Hey, baby! You ready to take my cock?” Panic takes over Jigen’s nerves as he pulls back, blood on his lips and in his mouth. Santana pulls the paper divide back up and pulls the gunman into the large, luxury bathtub before replacing the screen. The bathroom door handle smashes against the wall as the door is burst open. “Huh, baby?” Comes the call and Santana calls back.  
“Nearly, babe. A guy’s gotta look his best for the first night, yeah?” He answers as he watches the boss’s silhouette approach,  
“Can I get a look at my prize?” He asks and Santana begins to stammer.  
“P-Patience, patience, mister.” He calls back but fingers curl around the screen.  
“Just a tiny peek, baby.” The blood freezes in the boy’s veins. If Jigen is caught having allowed harm to come to him, he’ll be in big trouble, but if Jigen is found in the bath with him, now, both of them will probably be shot to death. “Where’s Jigen, baby?” The voice asks as he brings back the screen, agonisingly, slowly.  
“I-I think, he went to the bathroom a few minutes ago. Something about the tea not agreeing with him.” He answers.  
“You sound nervous. You hiding something, babydoll?”

Santana hits the button and hides his bloody hand under his head. The screen is pulled back the water is bubbling, violently, due to the jacuzzi jets, in the bath, obscuring Jigen who sunk to the bottom, holding his breath.  
“Ahh! Pervert!” Santana covers his privates with his free hand. The screen is replaced as the boss chuckles, darkly.  
“Don’t be long, yeah?”  
“I have to look my best, yes?” He yells over the sound of the bubbles. “I’ll tell you what; when I get out, I’ll make you a gin and tonic; Fantasma-style, yes?”  
“Sounds great, baby.” The bathroom door closes, again, and the idol pokes his head from behind the screen, to make sure that the boss is gone, before turning off the jacuzzi jets. Jigen emerges, his breaths coming, quick and shallow.  
“I should—” Jigen goes to move but a soft palm is left against his cheek and he stops.  
“Please, don’t go...” Comes a soft whisper and, in the steaming bath, his suit is drenched, clinging to his skin. Sanatana’s other hand begins to unbutton his shirt as he leans in, lips claiming Jigen’s, again. He still tastes of blood. Dark eyes open to meet vibrant, violet ones. When they pull apart, Jigen looks confused.  
“I thought...you wanted to be with that guy?” He asks, checking that his hat is still on the bench with his jacket. Santana scoffs and looks down.  
“I wanted to be with that ape?” He repeats, in a hushed disgusted tone. “No. My agent just thought it would be a way to make some easy cash, while this rumour about me blows over, in minha terra natal, you know?” Jigen nods, slowly. “You’re...really attractive and I...just...” Jigen claims his lips, again, as he struggles to unbutton and escape from his drenched shirt. He’s decided; even if the gunman has to shoot his way out of here, he’s getting the kid out.

Soft fingertips brush featherlight touches over any new, exposed skin, making the older man growl against his lips. Next, go his dress pants, shoes and socks, slowly, piling up on the granite counter. Jigen’s beard prickles against the tanned skin of his throat as he kisses there, making Santana’s breath catch in his lungs. Jigen sits himself on the underwater ledge with the younger man straddling his lap. He can feel himself growing excited as he tastes the younger man’s skin, nipping at the crook of his neck and watching him have to suppress moan into a whispered breath. Fingertips trace along old and fresh scars across his torso, watching him shudder, slightly. The gunman places a soft kiss to the kid’s sternum, glancing up to see the blush creep across his cheeks and his shoulders. No marks are left across his flawless, tanned skin as he goes, descending, with fingers and lips, to the surface of the water. The head of the younger man’s erection pokes out of the water, pink and swollen. Long fingers tangle into Jigen’s hair and tug, silently requesting him to tilt his head up to receive Santana’s soft lips. The gunman, quickly, tugs off his briefs and places them with his other drenched clothes. He captures the younger man’s lips and Santana licks his way into Jigen’s mouth, again, only, this time, he gasps. Rough fingers curl around the shaft of his cock and run the length of it.

A breathless moan escapes the younger man as Jigen presses his own erection to the curve of Santana’s tight ass before pushing a digit into him. A pained gasp leaves him and he doubles over, hiding his face in the crook of Jigen’s neck.  
“This is your first time, hm?” He asks but he already knows the answer.  
“It feels weird...” Santana breathes against his ear and he eases the finger out.  
“It’s fine. Maybe another time, yeah?” He smiles, warmly, as the younger man shifts his hips, allowing the gunman to grasp their cocks together. His pace is slow and sensual, allowing Santana to, truly, feel the fire that he lit inside the gunman. Jigen rocks into his hand, also rocking against the younger man, making him bite his lip and breathe, heavy, against the gunman’s ear. Every movement makes the younger man shiver and moan, he’s overstimulated the poor kid.  
“I’m gonna...” Santana manages before hot come spurts onto Jigen’s chest and into the water.  
“Same here.” He breathes, one hand grasping onto the back of the younger man’s neck, pulling him back to claim his lips. It probably doesn’t help that he hasn’t really been paying attention to himself, lately. The blood is, still, on Santana’s soft, pink lips and it’s just enough to tip him over the edge. His breaths come as gasps as come spurts out in thick ropes. The light makes the kid glimmer in the setting sunlight...

“You ready?” The kid asks and Jigen nods, pulling his suit back on as Santana wraps a towel around his hips.  
“Ready.” Jigen pops his head out of the mini bathhouse and makes sure that no-one’s patrolling the hallways before slipping into the toilet, across the way. The idol wanders down the hallway to the master bedroom, taking up residence behind the bar.  
“Finally, baby. Took you long enough.” He grunts out, not looking up from the TV.  
“This drink is gonna be worth it.” Santana assures him, pouring in the gin and the tonic water to a good ratio before reaching for a lemon and a knife. He holds the lemon in his injured hand. “Now, for the pièce de résistance!” He states, loudly, half-cutting into the lemon before dropping the knife and groaning in pain. “Ow! Ow ow ow!” The other man jumps up and grabs his hand, looking at the blood rising to the surface.  
“Oh, shit!” He curses as he looks around. “Where’s Jigen?!” Of course, the boss is scared of blood.  
“I-In the bathroom.” Santana answers, faux shakily. Right on cue, there’s a loud curse and a clanging in the pipes before Jigen rushes out of the toilet, drenched in (what is supposed to be) water from the broken sink faucet.  
“Yeah, boss?”  
“Why you fuckin’ wet?!” He booms, watching the gunman drip onto his carpet. “Wait, never mind. Just get Santa-Chan to the hospital and get that stitched up, yeah?” The boss waves them off and Santana stops to pull some clothes on.

They get in Jigen’s car. The gunman is dry, now, in a clean suit from the boot of the car because he didn’t want to get his car seats wet.  
“I...can’t believe that actually worked. That was amazing.” Santana chuckles, holding his injured hand. Jigen places a cigarette between his lips and lights it up.  
“C’mon, lets get you stitched up.” They set off, smoke dissolving into the dusky air.


End file.
